


Angels, Ghosts and the Hearts of Men

by MistyBeethoven



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Acceptance, Afterlife, Angels, Arkham Asylum, Blackgate Penitentiary, Death, Fantasy, Father-Son Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Homophobia, Implied Sexual Content, Love, M/M, Metaphysics, Mother-Son Relationship, Odd, POV Outsider, Romantic Soulmates, Slightly surreal, letting go, life after death, parental homophobia, protective parent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-11 10:37:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19107970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistyBeethoven/pseuds/MistyBeethoven
Summary: In death, and with the guidance of an angel, Gertrud Kapelput witnesses her son, Oswald Cobblepot's, evolving relationship with Edward Nygma.An attempt at merging the slightly odd and fantastic with the already dark and outlandish Gotham landscape.





	Angels, Ghosts and the Hearts of Men

In a mother's womb a child does not breathe; it instead takes its oxygen from the blood of its mother, blood and breath becoming one as the fetus moves closer to life.

When a child is born it has to be helped in taking it first breath. It is, one can imagine, a frightening and painful experience to be tossed from a safe and small world into a large unknown one.

Life is linked to pain.

So is death.

Gertrud Kapelput discovered this as she died in her son's arms and was born into death.

It was almost as painful learning to not breath as it had been to take that initial breath in the first place.

Spirit now only, she stood and watched as her son held her lifeless body.

She wanted to touch him but found she could not. It was like trying to bring two identical magnets together: they remained at a distance repelling each other.

"It is not allowed," a voice said and Gertrud turned to find a creature of black feathers and white skin behind her. He glowed but was dark at the same time; attractive yet intimidating. She had never met an angel before and was having a hard time recognizing one past the images she had seen in books.

"I am dead?" she asked.

"Yes," the Angel said.

"I want to help my _baby_ ," she wailed.

"On certain occasions you may find He lets you. Otherwise, you can only watch."

"Why am I still here then?" Gertrud asked, fear making her voice shake. "Are you a demon? Am I to go to Hell? Is this Hell?"

The creature shook his head. "All spirits are born in the hearts of man. When they die they become ghosts if they find something makes them linger. When they let go they become an angel. They are tasked with helping one person, a stranger, in similar pain and then they can return home."

"You have black wings," Gertrud said studying his ebony feathers.

The Angel nodded. "You will find all angels in Gotham wear wings that are black."

Kapelput nodded and looked at her son. Long ago Oswald Cobblepot had left his mother's womb. Still he had not truly ever learned to become independant of her.

Now such a state was forced upon him and he did not know what to do.

* * *

"All things have a plan," the Angel told Gertrud.

"But it is not _good_ for my boy to be alone," the woman cried. The Angel was taking her through the woods. She did not like them. She did not like the way time felt now. It was a disjointed thing and confusing. It seemed like she was able to process some of it but not as a whole. The spirit seemed at odds with the material.

"He won't be," the Angel reassured. "He will have company soon enough.

They stopped when they found a young man in his twenties. He was busily digging a hole and looking quite weary from the task. There was a body by him of a man. The dismembered body of a woman lay in a suitcase nearby.

Gertrud crinkled her nose up in disgust. "What _is_ this? Who _is_ this young man? He is a murderer, no?"

"Yes. Just like your son. He is the company I was just telling you about."

Gertrud looked to the Angel in shock. " _This_ boy?"

"Yes," the Angel said. "He has just destroyed the one thing he loved also."

Gertrud laughed. "This boy...he hardly seems upset."

"You would be surprised the lies we tell ourselves to survive. Did you not tell yourself a few about your son's ' _work_?' Yes. Your son and this man will find each other soon. Their pain will call to one another and then they will meet again. Their damnation or salvation rests on this. It is written in the heart of God."

"God has a strange heart," she wondered.

"The strangest," the Angel replied.

* * *

In the tall thin man's apartment, Gertrud Kapelput sat on the bed and watched as her son was nursed back to health. She protectively watched as the man cared for her only child. Sometimes she was grateful to this odd man with the angular face and glasses; other times she found herself becoming jealous and wishing she could take her boy back home.

At all times, the Angel moved through the apartment never saying a word unless he was spoken too.

Once Gertrud started to sing to Oswald; it was the song she had sang to him when he was a child. She was surprised when the odd man's voice joined with her and they sang in harmony.

"He is not so bad, hey?" she smiled at the Angel. The creature only nodded and looked out the window, searching for the tall building where he had worked for years.

* * *

At her grave, Gertrud witnesses the meeting of her son and his father. Her heart aches at the sight of Elijah.

"I loved him _so_ very much," she tells the Angel.

"Yes you did. Perhaps that is why your son has a large heart despite his...flaws."

This last word warrents an angry glare from Kapelput but the creature ignores it and continues. "You both loved each other."

"He loved me?"

The Angel nods.

Gertrud's face brightened with the information and the ghost looked beautiful the angel saw.

"When I lost Elijah I put all of the love I had into my son," the woman said. "Perhaps a little _too_ much?"

The Angel did not comment. "Elijah will be dead shortly."

Gertrud's mouth opened in shock, her wide eyes becoming even larger. "Will I see him as he passes?"

"No," the Angel answered. "The person he regretted leaving was you. He suffered that for years and you are already dead."

"Oh," Gertrud said. "Death seems more complicated than I had thought."

"Things usually are," the Angel agreed.

* * *

Walking down Gotham's busy streets, Gertrud basked in the many posters of her son that graced the numerous buildings. Her child was running for mayor and she had little doubt that he would win.

She had watched Edward Nygma return to his life again. It was good that Oswald had a friend, she told herself. He had missed out on friendship in his boyhood. God and the Angel had been right: Nygma was exactly what her son needed. The man was smart and would keep her precious son safe.

"Look at _these_!" Gertrud beamed at her Angel. She was disappointed to find him staring at a dark haired boy. He was with a distinguished man who looked like a servant of some sort. The boy and man were being followed by two women. It took Kapelput a moment to realize that one of the women bore wings as black as midnight.

"You know them?" she asked.

The Angel's face was not easy to read. "Yes."

The Angel turned and walked away. Gertrud caught up to him. "My wife," the Angel said. "Never had the same faith in Alfred as I did."

The creatures words were meant to offer an explanation but Gertrud Kapelput did not understand.

* * *

Days spent watching the closeness of her son with Edward Nygma, Gertrud still appreciated the wisdom of God for throwing the two men together.

How good this young man was for her son! He had the brains to see things her sensitive child could not. Nygma was smart to see what her Oswald was too trusting to. 

How touching was their friendship and how they looked out for and protected the other.

What did it matter if sometimes glances lingered longer than they should have?

Was it so strange the way they seemed to touch? The way their bodies would stand too close. Her little Cobblepot had always been such an affectionate boy. He simply missed the closeness he had shared with his mother.

Now she was gone, Gertrud told herself, her son only needed someone to replace her...a friend.

Yes. Such a good _friend._

* * *

" _No! No!_ " the blonde woman was screaming as she watched her only child embracing the man on the couch. "This is not _right_!"

"It was what was always _meant_ to be," the Angel said calmly.

" _No!_ " She looked again at the expression on Oswald's face, saw the way his hands moved against the other man's back. " _No_! I am meant to have grandchildren! The Cobblepot name is meant to live on!"

"Have you forgotten you are _dead_? You'd never hold any grandchildren in that existence anyway," the Angel laughed. "Have you also not learned by now that everything lives on _regardless_?"

"But my boy was with the painted ladies!"

"No. Only in your mind. There has never been anybody like this to your son before. Jim Gordon may have been but not like _this_."

Gertrud remembered Gordon. Oswald _had_ talked about him often. She remembered how he had talked about the policeman, and how it had disturbed her deep down, but how she had pushed it away.

"My son is not a _buzi_ ," she said, looking at the ground, refusing to look at either of the men or the angel.

"And you fooled yourself into thinking he was not a murderer also. Which is worse to you: that he has taken human life or that he has fallen in love with another man?"

Gertrud looked away. She could not answer.

* * *

Days later, Gertrud weeped at her son's side as he suffered with the knowledge that the man he loved had fallen in love with someone else. She longed to throw her arms around him and comfort him but the action was still not permitted.

"That man _teased_ my boy! He used him and now he has thrown him _away_!"

"Perhaps," the Angel stated. "He merely knew what was happening and became scared. This city presented him with a way out and he ran to it."

"It is this _house_!" she wailed. "It stands against love."

"So you finally admit it is _love_?" the Angel asked.

Gertrud sighed. "My boy is _confused_. Still he  _thinks_ it is love and his pain is real so I will use _that_ word."

"What a horribly _safe_ answer," the Angel smirked.

* * *

Standing on the dock, Gertrud's previous pain for her son had now turned to outrage, anger and desperation as she watched Edward Nygma aim a gun at Oswald Cobblepot.

She spat on the suited man. Amidst the falling rain, Nygma took it only for another raindrop.

" _DO SOMETHING_!" she screamed.

"It is what _must_ happen."

"It is a _senseless_ plan," she sneered.

The Angel considered her words. "To rip a single page from any book and to believe you can judge it senseless is unwise."

A single shot rang out. Getrud started to cry as she watched her single treasure fall into Gotham City's water.

"Go to him," the Angel instructed.

Gertrud Kapelput jumped in. Under the cold water, she found that she could now hold her son. She offered him gratefully any warmth she still possessed.

She cried in joy when her son survived and sought revenge.

* * *

On the dock again, Gertrud was hoping her offspring would kill the tall thin man once and for all; she wished that her son would finally put a bullet through his love and end his silly obsession.

She was horribly disappointed when he only chose to freeze him.

"You would still prefer your son to kill a man than to kiss him?" the Angel shook his head.

Gertrud looked embarrassed. "No. Just not _this_ one. He has hurt my son enough."

"They hurt each other," the Angel reminded. "Still Cobblepot would suffer more if this man did not exist. He has frozen him to keep them both alive. If Edward Nygma only realized how smart your son is and how much he is loved he may give him his own heart in return one day."

Seeing the disgruntled look on the woman's face the Angel sighed. "You still do not want this man with your son?"

"No," she pouted.

"Then you desire your son to never be truly happy," the Angel simply stated.

* * *

"And you believed you would never have any grandchildren," the Angel scoffed as Oswald emotionally held a small mute child.

"But they are saying goodbye," Gertrude said weeping at her own child's sorrow.

"This boy, Martin, will always be Oswald Cobblepot's son. Even if they were never to see one another again which I assure you is not the case. They share hearts. Another man will help Oswald in saving Martin once more. His heart will thus join theirs forever."

"Who is this man?" Gertrud asked.

* * *

"This ' _Riddler_ ' is going to save my little Cobblepot?" Gertrud asked the Angel as she watched the man begin to laugh with her son in the confines of Arkham. "Will he succeed? He is crazy isn't he?"

Time flashed forward and she viewed the two men escaping as an answer to her question.

Back on the dock again she watched as Penguin rescued the Riddler.

"My Oswald _loves_ a fool," Gertrud said finally accepting her son's emotions for what they were.

* * *

After watching with satisfaction her son's revenge on Tabitha, the woman wandered to a seemingly vacant building. 

"You are not always with me," the woman chastised the Angel when he finally joined her. "Where do you go off to and leave a poor woman alone."

The Angel remained silent.

"You check in on that boy and the ghost following him, I think," she answered. "You haven't moved on as much as you like to pretend."

The Angel looked at the bodies of Lee and Edward Nygma on the ground, avoiding the question.

"My boy was right to warn this _fool_ ," Gertrud said proudly looking at the cooling body of the Riddler. "She was only using him. He thought he was so smart. It has been the death of him."

She looked around. "So where are they? They are dead, no?"

"Not yet," the Angel said turning to look at the door as Oswald Cobblepot walked in.

"Edward! Edward are you here? I just want to let you know that..."

The man's words failed as he spotted Nygma on the ground.

Gertrud watched as her son ran to the man's body.

"Oh _God,_ " the Penguin said holding the Riddler's body. "Please _no_."

Oswald looked at the blood on his hands and gently placed the bleeding man down. "I'm going to fix you, Ed," he promised.

Gertrud looked at the Angel. "Does he?"

The Angel nodded. "Yes. He pays a man to save him."

" _Hmpphhh_ ," Gertrud sounded. "A waste of money, I would say."

She did not believe she would ever forgive the tall thin man for the constant pain he had put her son through.

* * *

The ghost and the Angel often walked the fallen streets of Gotham. They witnessed moments or bravery and moments of cowardice. Often Gertrud looked at the Angel and wondered who he had been before his death.

"How did you die?" she asked him once.

"I was shot dead on this same street, alongside my wife," he answered. "My son was with us."

"And he was left?"

"Yes."

"That is why you were given to me? We both of us left sons behind."

"I _chose_ you," the Angel said. "Just as your son's pain called to Nygma, and vice versa; your pain drew me to you."

"But your wife could not move on?"

"She was filled with regret. She did not see the time we had had with our son. She could only see the time that had been stolen."

Gertrud nodded. She understood the woman's suffering more than the Angel's acceptance.

* * *

Watching her son fight to save Gotham, Gertrud Kapelput was once more flooded with pride.

"That is _my_ boy!" she said to the Angel but he was looking at a teenager. He was older now but she recognized him as the boy the Angel had studied during Oswald's campaign. The two women were not there. Either both had finally moved on or it was one of those moments forbidden to be.

The woman's pride was cut short as her son was wounded while protecting his only friend.

"My poor baby," she said trying to touch him but feeling the same barricade preventing her. She watched in gratitude as Ed Nygma cared for her son.

Something about the other man's movements had altered when around her precious boy, Kapelput noticed. Whenever Oswald was close now the tall thin man seemed gentler and attentive. There was a protectiveness and a certain shyness. He seemed aware of her son's body and presence.

Part of Gertrud liked the man's changed behaviour for she wanted Oswald to be treated well; the other part was disturbed by it; it felt too much like the Riddler was beginning to fall in love with her son.

Or maybe he already had years ago and had spent all that time fighting it; just as she was still fighting the knowledge of who her son had fallen in love with.

That night she watched by the Angel's side as the two men held knives at each other's backs; silently she tried to will her son to be the first to plunge the knife in. She watched in horror as Oswald could not do it and instead just fell into the other man's embrace.

To her surprise and expectation Edward Nygma did not use the knife also held in his hand.

"I do not _want_ to stay," Gertrud said not wanting to see what happened next as the two men seperated and smiled fondly at each other.

"You should," the Angel said. "It is one of truest beauties life offers: two people in love."

Kapelput closed her ears and eyes. When she opened them again it was six months later and the police were taking her son away to Blackgate. She saw Edward Nygma standing a fair distance away, trying not to fall apart. Soon after, Kapelput watched as Nygma tried in vain to break her son out of the prison and failed; he won a vacation at Arkham for his effort. With his sanity compromised with the loss of his lover and sole hold on humanity, the duration of Nygma's stay matched that of Cobblepot's.

* * *

Gertrud and the Angel visited both men often throughout those ten long years. Time was as strange to them as always but one thing stayed with the mother as the years passed by: both Edward and Oswald drew their comfort and strength from the memory of each other.

There was a photograph of Nygma Oswald kept hidden under the mattress in his cell. Any moment he was able to, the Penguin would look at it. When the photo became creased and transparent with grease from being held so often, the criminal would have another smuggled in. He seemed to be existing on the photo of his lover and the memories they had created together.

Edward's own love for her son had progressed into a madness; he drew pictures of his absent lover; he talked to him constantly as if he were there. For years he had rejected Oswald's love and now he was losing himself in it to survive every agonizing day.

Gertrud was touched though she fought against the feeling. In their separation she could obviously see how deep their feelings ran and how each man was struggling with the physical absence of the other.

"Come," the Angel said noting his companion's change of heart. "Just a little while longer."

* * *

She was standing by her grave again. Oswald was out and placing lilies on it.

"He's _free_!" she exclaimed.

"Yes," the Angel said.

"My good sweet boy. And he's _no_ going back?"

The Angel just smiled.

* * *

A giant bat was dropping from the sky towards Penguin and the Riddler.

No wait, Gertrud thought. Not a bat; a man _dressed_ as a bat. She quickly turned to look at the Angel. "Why! It's you is it not?"

"No," the Angel said. "Just someone very much like me."

Gertrud looked to the batman again. Past his shoulder, on top of a building she saw two figures. One had ebony wings. The woman watched in amazement as the other figure grew wings as well. One ascended away into the night sky past the dark clouds; the other flew back further into the city, as if being called by something or someone.

Turning to seek answers from her guide, Kapelput found him staring at the man in black who was apprehending the Riddler and her Oswald.

"I must thank you and your son for the chance to see him one last time," the Angel said. 

Gertrud smiled. She finally understood. "You chose wisely when you chose Gertrud Kapelput, no? You are very welcome. May I ask you to help set my boy free? A gesture of gratitude?"

Moments later she sees her son and the Riddler taken away into custody. She watches as the Angel, unseen, unlocks the back of the van that is taking them away.

In delight, she clasps her hands as both men escape.

"Where are they going now?" Gertrud asks.

"They are going home," the Angel answers. "Do you want to see them."

Gertrud thinks for a moment. "Tonight they can have. What did they say: _tomorrow_?"

The Angel nods; tomorrow it will be.

* * *

The Van Dahl mansion. Night. Two men lay together on the couch where once long ago they had once embraced. The men had shed their clothing and were lying in one another's arms; Oswald was between Edward's legs. Nygma's hands were searching and rubbing his lover's new girth with both interest and pleasure. Lips desperately met lips, starved for years of a kiss.

Lips parted and the men rested their foreheads against each other. A smile on both their faces they looked like angels without wings.

The room was dark, only lighted from a fire set in the fireplace. Gertrud and the Angel watched as the flame cast flesh in a reddish glow.

The woman felt no repulsion at the sight of her son being kissed by another man. It felt natural now to her as all love should be when it is finally understood and respected.

The skin did not embarrass her either. Still she looked away when her son rose from the couch.

"I'll go get some champagne," he announced and smiling, put on a housecoat and left the room.

Gertrud was turning to the Angel when she heard her name. She turned quickly back to find Ed Nygma staring at a photograph of her that Oswald had placed on the fireplace mantel only that morning. There was a photo of Elijah there as well. Oswald had placed both images on either side of a picture of Edward and himself; it was as if they were one big happy family.

"I know I haven't always been very good to Oswald but...I would very much like to take care of him for the rest of our lives if you would let me. Thank you for your son Mrs. Kapelput. I love him."

"He will be _good_ to my precious one. He will be the one to wipe away his tears now," Gertrud said. "They will be okay?"

The Angel nodded. "As okay as any of the living. In that world life is always linked to pain. Their love gives them the chance for happiness, and perhaps even redemption, though. Only those who can't love are truly damned."

Gertrud nodded. "It is time then. All the pain was worth it for that smile on my Oswald's face. Can I...can I say goodbye to my boy?"

"Yes," the Angel said. "I was allowed to say goodbye to mine too before I met you."

* * *

Walking past the hallway, the Penguin stopped, feeling as if something had just touched him. His hands filled with a champagne bottle and two glasses he stopped as he felt something like a kiss on his cheek, experiencing both cold and warmth, as if he had both lost and gained something.

Looking around he thought he heard movement like the rustling of feathers.

Oswald walked back to where Edward was waiting for him and let the other man dry away the tears he was unaware had started to fall.

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically what you get when I cross "Angels in America," Clive Barker's "The Departed," "A Christmas Carol," and "It's a Wonderful Life."
> 
> Either that or what you get when I look at Oswald Cobblepot photos in the dead of night, in a dark room, with a flashlight after having ABBA's "Angel Passing Through My Room" running through my head. 
> 
> Take your pick. Preferably whichever one makes me seem less crazy. :/
> 
> Honestly, though, this probably has a fair bit to do with the fact that I am rewatching Gotham and am at the point where Gertrud dies. 
> 
> Past all the fantasy elements, this is a story of a mother finally embracing the knowledge that her son is gay.
> 
> Speaking of moms, I have to say that Gotham will always mean a lot to me because it was one of the last shows I watched with my mom before she died. It premiered in September 2014 and my mom passed away in January 2015. She didn't tell my sister and I that she was dying of cancer. She just pretended everything was normal and okay.
> 
> She died 10 days after she finally told us the the truth.
> 
> Before that, though, she knew I loved Batman so she would tape Gotham and we would watch it together. Oswald Cobblepot made her so happy; he was her Penguin. I will always love Robin Lord Taylor because I know that while my mom was going through all of that pain, and just keeping it to herself, he made her smile and forget about it for a while. Thank you, Robin. <3


End file.
